


Heat

by Tijmen



Category: Original Work
Genre: BDSM, But there's also some fun things, Crime, Elf, Elves, Fantasy, Incest, Interracial By Fantasy Standards, Multi, Murder, Rape, Romance, Thriller, Tiefling, Tieflings, for example, it's not for the faint of heart, just saying
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-05 20:47:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11585892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tijmen/pseuds/Tijmen
Summary: "We tieflings are civilised people, contrary to what the commoners will have you believe. 'Criminals,' they call us. Well, okay. But we're civilised criminals."Follow a young tiefling killer-for-hire as his ethics (or lack thereof) collide with the world.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> New chapters meant to be added weekly.

# I

Azil picked the most run-down tavern he could find – he didn’t want to spend a lot of money, and he could handle his own in a city as tame as Highfront. He stood in front of a three-storey building built out of brick. It probably started falling over a long while ago, as the building leant over slightly. The salty breeze from the sea had eroded the bricks. The mortar had turned yellow somewhere during the last century. Wrought iron bars looked menacing in the dark windows. He felt at home already.  
But as he entered the building, he stepped into a bright light and realised the tavern’s outside was a cultivated mess, meant to attract by its shabbiness. The interior was bright and cheerful, and the most prominent feature was the head of a giant lion, mounted above the bar. Two minstrels were singing a sea chantey on a tiny stage, and servers coursed through the room. They were dispensing cider, the local’s favourite drink, judging by the sheer number of barrels of the stuff lined up on the opposite wall.  
The barkeep, a large man in his forties, smiled jovially at Azil as he approached the bar, and held a glass at the ready under a barrel of cider. He was wearing a plaid apron, and Azil caught a whiff of pine from him.  
‘Welcome to the Roaring Lion! Sweet or dry?’  
‘I don’t care about a sweet room, but I hope you have a dry one.’  
The bartender laughed at Azil’s joke and seemed to be in an especially joyous mood.  
‘There are still rooms, but the Holiday is just around the corner!’  
‘I’ll be staying for one day at least, I think. And sweet, please.’  
‘I can guarantee you one day, but if you decide to stay for the Holiday, I need to know soon. Your name? For the record, of course.’ He set the glass of cider on the bar, which was rough and uneven. It looked like half of a freshly felled tree. _Part of the aesthetic?_  
‘Jonathan. Jonathan King.’ Azil put down a couple of stars too many. ‘I’ll just pay in advance for the evening.’  
‘Lucky. Lucky Abraham, the owner around here. So, business or pleasure?’  
‘Business, I’m afraid. But it’ll surely turn into a bit of both.’  
‘That’s what I like to hear. Speaking of, you’ll love our new cook.’  
Azil looked at him with curiosity, unsure whether he meant to phrase that differently.  
‘She makes a mean fish amok, but I recommend you get the rabbit stew instead. If the fish becomes too popular, we’ll be eating nothing but seafood the coming week. The stew comes with Zakharan spices, a house blend that Berty makes. I think you’ll like it, it tastes as exotic as you look. If you’re less meat-inclined, we also have a seasoned ratatouille.’  
‘I’m curious about the stew. Berty is your cook, I assume?’  
‘Oh, yes, we had to hire her after Sidwell lost his hand in the meat grinder – we scrapped the whole sausage, fearing accidental cannibalism.’ Lucky slowly derailed in a detailed story about the previous cook while Azil wondered if he was always this graphical with new guests.  
‘Anyway, Sidwell’s kid is Berty’s apprentice now. This is a family run establishment!’ Azil got the feeling that Lucky might be a bit tiring in the long term; the enthusiasm wasn’t an act.  
‘Do I sit, or is this one of those _experience_ taverns where you eat while standing?’  
‘Oh, no, sir. I give you the food, and you eat it however you like. Just as long as you don’t make a mess!’ He grins again. ‘Just pick a spot, and I’ll have a server bring it over to you.’  
‘I wanted to pick your brain on something else. You seem like a knowledgeable man. You’ve undoubtedly heard of the Faelynn family.’  
‘Of course, I have! The Faelynns. Good people, good citizens. They own a trading company, mostly import and export, with their island, I don’t recall the name. Lord Elduin’s in charge. Prickly old bastard he is, or so his grandkids tell me.’ He looked around the room when he said that. ‘They aren’t here tonight, but they visit often, so you’ll get the chance to talk to them if you want. Adorable pair. They’re twins, and they have a taste for the brew.’ He nodded at the big barrel of cider in front of him.  
‘They’re always a little sad. It's the long lifespan if you ask me. We humans,’ he nodded at Azil as he poured another set of ciders for a server, ‘or tieflings, as it were, we can’t understand how it is, can we?’ He went on a rant about how long lifespans can make you depressed.  
A crowd of young people, either out on a bar crawl, or ones that favour this place, filled the room. The sea chantey band Azil saw earlier finished their performance and was sitting, enjoying some food and cider near the stage. A cello quartet was playing now. There were a few booths occupied by sailors, talking shop. _Talking ship, you could say. Ugh. I’m hungry._  
‘Why are you interested in the Faelynn family, if I might ask? You’re not planning anything sinister, are you?’ Lucky was laughing, but Azil could see his piercing gaze searching for something.  
‘I’m a student at the College of Stillport. Archaeology, specialised in elven artefacts. I heard they have a gem in their possession called the Ember. If I got thirty minutes and a good look, my thesis would write itself.’ Lucky chuckled. The story satisfied his curiosity, and he went back to cleaning glasses.  
‘While that’d be an interesting conversation, your rabbit stew is almost ready, and I’ve got the key to your room. Why don’t you pick a spot?’ Lucky slid over a key with the number seven.  
Azil sat down at an empty two-person table near the stage, and a server approached with a tray. She was a short, busty girl, and the ridiculous uniform she had on only enhanced her assets. A white, low-cut, frilly blouse and a red bodice. She smiled and set the food in front of him. A steaming bowl of fragrant stew; a plate of sliced dark bread with a thick crust; the cutlery; a couple of tiny bowls with colourful sauces; a bunch of napkins; and another cider. ‘On the house,’ she said, pointing to first the cider and then Lucky. ‘Enjoy!’  
While Azil was dipping his fingers in the sauces to try them (chilli and mint) and ‘accidentally’ looking at the server that was walking away from his table, he noticed a nearby table calling her. ‘So two Midnight Specials, Three Evermeet Sunrises, and a Fixxy mix, then? Coming right up!’ She walked away amid a hail of cheers. _A hen do?_  
The stew was delicious. There were the familiar flavours of onion and garlic, as well as juniper, but also some exotic tastes Azil had rarely tasted before. Lemongrass, coriander seeds, and cinnamon were the ones he recognised. He also noticed a hint of sweetness and smokiness to the stew that he wasn’t familiar with. He signed a thumbs-up to Lucky, who was watching intently and waiting for an opinion. Lucky nodded back and looked to the side with a grin, where Azil saw a smiling face poking out from the bead strings that covered the entrance to the kitchen. A cute half-elf, with dark, coppery skin, a shock of curly red hair, and striking green eyes. She grinned back at Lucky and vanished.  
The hen party took up the biggest table in the tavern and consisted solely of women. In human years, they’d all have been about twenty-five, but they weren’t just human. There were two half-elves, one of whom had a paper crown on her head, painted gold, and a sash across her chest: the bride-to-be. One elf woman, similar-looking to the fiancée. One halfling and two dwarves, and the rest were human. They were all cheery and slightly tipsy, talking about the wedding. Azil zoned out and enjoyed the food as they started a discussion on wedding dress designers.  
When he finished his stew, Azil took one of the napkins and wrote the number seven on it. He began walking back to the bar, swishing his tail to knock a glass of water off the table ‘accidentally’, and he caught it just before it hit the ground. With his left hand, Azil dropped the napkin on the end of the table.  
‘Oh, my apologies, ladies. I hope I didn’t stain any of your beautiful dresses.’ They were too busy checking their clothes to notice the item he’d replaced the glass with.  
They giggled and batted their eyelashes at Azil, shaking their heads and smiling. ‘No, no, of course not!’  
‘Gosh, I feel terrible for giving all of you such a scare and spilling your drink. Can I buy you another round to make it up to you?’  
Most of them approved of the idea and nodded. The elven girl looked a bit wary and glanced at all the empty glasses and the remains of the large dinner they had. The halfling – under three feet but easily the loudest – pushed her dwarven friend aside with a shrill giggle.  
‘Go on, ladies, make room for the gent!’  
‘Oh, unfortunately, I have urgent business to attend to, but maybe I’ll be lucky enough to speak with you later.’  
There was a collective, disappointed sigh as Azil walked to the bar.  
‘Welcome back, friend! How was the stew? Berty is eager to know. She’s trying to broaden the city’s palate, you understand.’  
‘It was delicious. If it’s not too busy, I’d like to compliment Berty in person. I’m sure she’ll be delighted to hear it.’  
‘She has a break in ten minutes, I’ll pass on the message. Then you can talk to her. It’s a busy night, as you can see. And no funny business! She’s the best cook I’ve had and if you do something…’ Azil noticed Lucky’s eyes turn from cheerful and welcoming to hard as steel for a short moment. ‘You’ll have to deal with me. Understand?’  
‘Have you had bad experiences with other guests?’  
‘Oh, of course not! I just don’t want my staff bothered. Like I said, this is a family establishment. The staff is like family to me. And Berty, especially, is like my daughter. So no funny business!’  
Lucky grinned and winked at Azil. He was clearly protective of his staff, but as Azil looked around, he saw a couple of servers openly flirting with customers. _For better tips, of course._  
‘I’d like to buy that table a round of drinks, please,’ Azil said, pointing at the hen do.  
‘Which table?’  
A loud cheer arose from the table he was pointing at. ‘That one.’ _Someone found the napkin._  
‘Sure thing, friend! That’s Misty Day, the bride-to-be. She’s marrying Shaundryl Virfiel, son of the city council member. You might note that she’s a half-elf, and he has an elven name? A minor scandal. But I’m glad race relations are getting better in the city. His parents are just a bit old-fashioned.’ He went on and on about how the young couple met and wanted to elope, but managed to convince the families to let them marry officially.  
Azil managed to catch shreds of conversations from the hen party. There was a friendly bickering about the napkin, and Misty seemed embarrassed. She thought her friends hired her an entertainer for the night but wasn’t going to take Azil up on his offer. The other ladies wondered whether he could entertain one or possibly more of them.  
At the end of another rant, this time detailing the politics of trading companies in the city, Lucky nodded his head. ‘Alright, Berty’s break is starting. She likes to go out and have some fresh air. If you want to talk to her, you’ll have to catch her in the courtyard. No funny business!’  
It was half-hearted, this time; he appeared to have let go his suspicions of funny business towards Berty once Azil had bought a round of drinks for Misty and her friends. He pointed out a door near the stage.  
‘I wouldn’t dream of it.’  
Azil walked out into the tavern’s courtyard. It wasn’t noticeable from the street, but it was vast. He saw a large oak tree growing in the far left corner, near two tall lamps. Its yellowing leaves were rustling softly in the breeze. In the middle stood a group of big, folded umbrellas, and a stack of benches and tables. Apparently, Lucky was getting ready to increase the capacity of the inn during the Holiday. Azil finally recalled the other part of the world called it the High Harvest. Since the city’s main crop was apples, and they turned the produce into cider, it was the biggest tourist attraction of the fall season in the city. People from all over the continent flocked to taste the cider brewed in Highfront.  
Near the kitchen exit, a person with bushy, red hair bent down over a fuzzy, little, black-and-white kitten, feeding it scraps of meat.  
‘You’re Bertha, right? The cook?’  
She looked up and grinned, still keeping her hand still for the cat to grab a bite from her fingers.  
‘Yeah, that’s me. I saw you at the bar. Finally, someone to let Lucky run his tongue. He loves to talk. Something wrong with the food? You had rabbit stew, ate all the chilli paste, but didn’t touch the bread? What a shame, it’s from a friendly bakery. Best sourdough in the district.’  
‘Oh, call me uncultured, but I’m a fan of meat and spice. I just wanted to come and say how delicious it was. You know your way around stews.’  
She kept on grinning and nodded. ‘Thanks!’  
The cat snatched the scrap of meat from her fingers and started eating it.  
‘And who’s this little fellow? Aww, aren’t you cute.’ Azil dropped himself to the kitty’s level with an almost feline grace and started scratching its head.  
‘Oh, that’s Baldy. He’s supposed to be catching mice, but everyone spoils him.’  
Azil took another look at the cat. It was fuzzy.  
‘Who cooks when you’re on a break? I heard you had an apprentice as well.’  
‘Yeah, Joe. He can take care of the kitchen in the fifteen minutes that I’m away for. He grew up in there.’ She smiled, sadly. ‘Such a shame about his dad. I knew him, you know? But Joe is a bit too young to mind the kitchen on his own, so Lucky hired me. Lucky’s a good guy. Despite the gossiping that he does.’  
‘Gossiping isn’t so bad. Guests keep coming back for it, I suppose. So what do you do besides cooking?’  
She looked confused for a moment. ‘Pardon?’  
‘I’m sure you must have other hobbies besides cooking because I’m afraid I wouldn’t be much conversation if we’re going to talk about food. What’s your favourite book, for example? Wait, don’t tell me. I’ll guess.’  
‘Alright.’ A curious grin floated over her face.  
‘I’m guessing… _Exotic Spices and Where to Find Them_ , by Gem Tunonagero.’  
She laughed at that and shook her head. ‘I’m afraid you’re wrong. Keep on guessing, stranger.’  
‘Stranger? Ah, I have you at a disadvantage. Jonathan.’ Azil extended his hand. ‘ _Tales from the Fey_. The Sisters Dramm.’  
‘Good to meet you, Jonathan. I’m Robertha.’ Berty shook it. He noticed an old burn on her palm, and a fresh cut on her thumb. ‘And, no. One more guess, and I’ll tell you.’  
‘Let’s make it a bet. Do you have free time tomorrow?’  
She looked slightly taken aback. She glanced towards the kitchen, from where clunking and delicious scents kept emanating. She leant down to pet Baldy. He was rubbing against her ankles after he’d finished chewing his food. Berty thought for a moment, and shrugs.  
‘After breakfast and before dinner preparations, yes. I do have a couple of free hours. But –’ Berty made a face, mocking Lucky’s threatening expression, and said in a low, rumbling voice, ‘– no funny business!’  
‘Give me until tonight, when you’re done with work. I’ll know the title of your favourite book. If I don’t, I’ll cook you lunch. If I do, you have to take me and show me the city, because I’m new here. How does that sound?’  
Her eyes narrowed slightly, but he saw a spark of interest. She smiled, and he saw she was slightly blushing, even though both the surroundings and her complexion were dark. She nodded. Just once.  
‘You have until the evening ends.’ She looked up at the stars and nodded as if she was convincing herself. Then she turned back towards the door. ‘See you later, Jonathan.’


	2. Chapter 2

# -III

‘Scram, devil spawn. Find something in your own price class.’  
‘You heard her. Make room for the welcome guests.’  
Azil wasn’t sure which one of the bouncers was the woman; they looked almost identical, with barrels for chests, booming voices, and their hair in a long, black braid.  
The term ‘devil spawn’ wasn’t inaccurate. Azil had orange eyes, a tomato-red skin, two thick horns, and a tail that spanned more than his own height. Azil was a tall tiefling. One in twenty men was taller than he was, and only one in two hundred elves matched his size. He was slender, as well. He didn’t have a dwarven hammer or a knightly broadsword by his side, but two daggers and a whip. The twins kept their eyes on the weapons, and Azil chuckled.  
_Cute, how they think they’re in control of the situation_ , he thought.  
It had been a long day of walking around Stillport, trying to find an armour smith willing to craft him a leather armour that could allow his unique body parts to move freely. So far, his light blue and gold robes had been good enough, but he’d been treading more dangerous waters recently.  
Instead of arguing, he just held up a letter. After the twins, another guard, and a man dressed in black cloth and gold rings had all read it, they let Azil into the restaurant. He ignored the dirty looks most of the room was shooting his way and the blank stares from the rest. Behind the straight faces hid a deep-rooted fear, Azil knew. The man briskly walked him to a private booth at the other end of the dining hall. He left behind a sweet-scented trail of jasmine.  
‘You’ve got some nerve.’ The dwarf didn’t get up from her seat but popped a small baked potato in her mouth.  
‘I’ll have the steak, please. Rare.’  
She didn’t reply. A thick vein on her temple pulsed.  
‘What? You asked for help with a problem named Miruin. I’m here, listening.’  
‘I asked for the Viper because she kills like Miruin kills, and doesn’t get caught. I get… this.’  
‘The Viper.’  
‘Some kid who thinks he can impersonate a contract killer. You don’t remotely pass for a badass woman who knows martial arts and deadly poisons.’ _And why do you think I’ve never been caught?_  
‘I bet the food here tastes like elfshit.’  
Taken aback by the unexpected insult, the dwarf stood up and slammed her fists down on the table. A carefully folded paper swan sunk into a ruinous heap.  
‘How dare you insult our cooking? Our meats are succulent! Our salads are exquisite!’ Her pride sounded hurt.  
‘So you’re telling me I shouldn’t believe the stereotype about dwarven cuisine?’ Azil was feigning ignorance. He’d dined here before, disguised as a human. Today, he didn’t bother, because it took a lot of effort to keep an appearance up with magic.  
_Besides, it’s more honest towards the client._ Azil was aware that his sense of ethics was a bit twisted.  
‘Of course, they’re codswallop!’  
‘Now that I’ve reminded you about books and covers, can you please sit down and start telling me about your problem?’ The boredom in his voice was palpable. The dwarf opened her mouth to say something but reconsidered. She sat down after a moment of silence.  
The same man that escorted Azil leaned in through the curtains.  
‘Everything alright here, Katie?’  
‘Yes, Paul, thank you. Could I get a rare steak, and a…’  
‘Water, please.’  
‘And water, Paul, thank you.’ Paul disappeared behind the curtains again, and Katie turned towards Azil. ‘Alright. Say I choose to believe you. Let’s at least exchange names. Katica, but Kate is easier.’  
‘Derek.’ Azil shook the dwarf’s big hand.  
‘Is that your real name?’  
‘Does it matter?’  
‘Not really. But whether you’re an impostor does.’ Kate looked at Azil with suspicion.  
‘We’re still not past this? What would you like me to do? Kill an annoying guest on accident? Seduce Paul? Arm-wrestle you? All that while naked?’  
‘That’s a choice?’  
‘It’ll cost you another fifteen thousand stars.’ Azil had overstated the price a bit; he was in a mood to do two of those three for free. And he wasn’t going to arm-wrestle a dwarf. He knew he’d lose.  
‘That’s steep, _Derek_.’ Her sarcastic tone suggested she still held Azil in contempt.  
‘Murder isn’t cheap, _mistress_ dwarf,’ Azil answered equally sarcastically.  
‘Can’t I just pay you after you’ve done the job?’  
‘You know the rules.’  
Kate started speaking, but a loud bang coming from the dining hall interrupted her.  
‘Chef Kate! Please step forward, if you would be so kind! We have roughly sixty dining hostages!’ _Really. This has to happen right now?_  
The distinctly elven voice preceded a rougher, more monotone one.  
‘We came for your money!’ _At least we know what they want, I guess._  
Peeking through the curtains, Azil and Kate both saw an elven mage with yellow and black robes and an honest attempt at a beard. It was slightly lacklustre since elves usually don’t grow facial hair. Next to him stood a tanned human woman in leather armour. The absence of arm guards revealed toned upper arms. She was carrying a sword that looked like it could strike down anyone foolish enough to step within five feet.  
The elf spoke again. ‘If you don’t come out now, I’ll light this place on fire!’  
Azil turned to Kate, who was looking pale for a weathered dwarf. ‘Do you want me to deal with them?’  
‘Indubitably, it would be marvellous if you could prevent any bloodshed.’  
Azil sensed a hint of sarcasm; dwarves didn’t use words like _indubitably_ and _marvellous_ lightly. _As if it’s my fault that her restaurant is being robbed._  
‘You can prevent it. By giving them the money they're asking for,’ Azil said with a faint smile.  
‘Are you crazy? By Caoimhin, do something!’  
‘It’s going to cost you.’  
‘Alright, fine! Stop talking and start stopping them!’  
Azil responded, but in a language that Kate didn’t comprehend. A series of complicated gestures and words made every part of his body disappear over the course of five or six seconds.  
Only someone who was watching closely could track the tiefling’s movements. An impression on the carpet, a rose in a vase that swayed as Azil’s tail brushed against it. Barely ten seconds after he’d disappeared, the elf mage stopped in the middle of a verbal threat, as he’d found a sharp dagger on his throat.  
‘What’s wrong, Rafael?’ The woman with the unusually low voice still had her back turned towards her elf companion. Rafael didn’t respond, but a reappeared Azil did.  
‘Drop the sword, or I’ll hurt Rafael.’  
‘Do it, Roxie,’ whispered Rafael.  
She spun around with hatred in her eyes but stayed at a distance.  
‘You drop your sword.’  
‘It’s not a sword, it’s a dagger.’ _I should not have said that._  
She jerked a nearby guest towards her and held the sword against his throat.  
‘Bad move, Roxie,’ Azil said. ‘Kate might care for the guests, but I don’t. I’m not going to let Rafael go.’ Azil concentrated for a moment and spoke again. ‘Drop the sword.’ He wove his magic into his words, trying to convince her, and she considered them. ‘Drop the sword, and nobody will get hurt.’  
She let go of the hostage, enchanted by his words.

 

# -II

Azil sunk his sharp teeth into the fat man’s neck. A soft, feminine gasp emanated from the darkness behind him, and his reflexes made his form spin around to face the source of the sound, using the twitching body as a potential shield. A gurgle escaped the man’s mouth, as he slowly succumbed to the poison. Azil’s orange eyes took a short moment to adjust to the darkness. The girl stood, leaning against the wall of the nightclub, with an open mouth and a burning cigarette in her hand. It started to burn up, Azil noticed. She stared at Azil in disbelief while he tasted the victim’s blood.  
_Greasy and bitter. Too much food, too much tobacco. Drunk for most of the evening, as well._  
Her eyes were wide, and she didn’t move. Her shocked expression turned into a slight smile.  
‘You’re… the Viper, aren’t you? I read about you in the paper.’  
‘Girls your age already read the paper?’ Azil answered, dodging the question with a cocky smile.  
‘Only the crime section,’ she said while trying to hide her obvious anxiety.  
‘So what do they say about me?’ Azil dropped the now lifeless body to the wet cobblestones of the alleyway.  
‘That you’re a woman. But I know the papers are wrong sometimes.’  
‘Last I checked, I wasn’t. What else?’  
‘That you’re a vampire, killing innocent people with your bite. That one seems to be true.’  
‘Then why aren’t you running?’  
‘Because what the papers don’t say is that you also kill bad people. Like Miruin.’ She nodded towards the body at Azil’s feet.  
‘How do you know he’s a bad person?’  
‘My father works for the paper. Miruin tells my dad to leave Miruin’s gang out from his stories because he writes the crime section. He’s always swearing about how Miruin pays us less and less, and that we’re going to be found out.’  
Miruin’s pointed ears betrayed his elven heritage, but a layer of fat made the normally prominent cheekbones that elves are known for, almost invisible.  
‘That doesn’t mean I don’t kill people with good intentions.’ _Why is she still standing there?_ Her cigarette started burning her finger, and she dropped it to the ground, trying hard not to curse.  
‘I want to be like you.’ Azil was surprised, but he didn’t show it.  
‘You want to kill innocent people?’  
‘No, I want to become a vampire.’  
Azil deftly walked towards her, studying her face. A thick layer of makeup hid her youthful features, but they couldn’t be mistaken. Her eyes were steel blue and decorated with eyeshadow that was too thick and too dark. As he got closer, he could smell the tobacco and sweet pastry in her breath. He placed one hand behind her head, and kissed her, letting his long tongue explore her mouth. She winced at the taste of blood but quickly regained her composure.  
_Terrible kisser. I don’t know what I expected._  
When he let go of her, she licked her black lips and made a little smacking sound with her mouth.  
‘Hmm. That tastes pretty good,’ the girl said. _Liar._  
She looked confused for a moment. ‘Is blood supposed to be spicy?’  
‘No, that’s part of who I am. It shouldn’t hurt, though.’  
‘It doesn’t.’  
‘What’s your name?’  
‘Leticia, but my vampire name is going to be Noxa.’ _Sigh._  
‘And how old are you?’  
‘Eighteen.’  
‘I’m a vampire. I know when you’re lying.’ It wasn’t visible, but Azil felt she was blushing under the makeup.  
‘I… I just turned fifteen.’  
‘Then why are you smoking behind a nightclub?’  
‘I look and behave older than I am!’ _You wish._ Leticia's face looked a little pouty. _Someone has issues._  
‘Alright. You sure about becoming a vampire?’  
‘Yeah, of course! I’ve read all the novels.’  
‘Tomorrow, then. Tomorrow, at dawn, I’ll turn you into a vampire.’  
‘Why then? Why not now?’ Her impatience was starting to annoy Azil.  
‘Because first, we have to complete the Ritual of Fluids. Right now, my bite could kill you. You’re not prepared.’  
‘The Ritual of Fluids?’ _Damn it. I have to work on the names._  
‘The first step was sharing our saliva. The last step is to share our blood. There’s one more step.’  
‘What step?’  
‘You’ll see. Do you have a place to sleep?’  
‘Just around the corner. My dad’s out of town, so I have the place to myself.’ Leticia grasped her head with her hands. ‘Are you sure it’s not supposed to hurt?’  
‘That’s the poison I gave Miruin.’ Leticia looked up, scared. ‘It’s not a lethal dose, but you’ll be dizzy for a little while. Lead me to your house before you pass out. You don’t want to become a vampire out here.’

# -I

The constable in the dark green uniform lifted the police tape, but only as a courtesy because Cherry Cottonhopper – first Gnomish detective in the city of Stillport – could walk under it with room to spare.  
‘So, what have we got? Another attack from the Viper?’  
‘So it seems, ma’am. Miruin Shaelogorath, three hundred and fifty-eight.’  
‘Years or pounds?’  
‘Years, ma’am. One bite, from behind, it seems. Biggest teeth marks are on his chest, here. The Viper poisoned him, too, like she always does.’  
‘They.’  
‘I’m sorry, ma’am?’  
‘We don’t know if the Viper is a man or a woman, Mike.’  
Mike shook his head in confusion. To him, it always had been pretty clear what the Viper was. ‘Anyway, it’s ironic, if you ask me. His gang of thugs poisoned their victims as well.’  
‘Poisons.’  
‘Excuse me?’  
‘The gang isn’t going to stop. Somebody else probably wanted to take over, and it’s most likely the person that paid for Miruin’s death. But maybe the Viper just has some sense of justice.’ The constable wondered aloud.  
Azil stood near the side, behind the police lint, casually leaning against a wall. He was keeping an eye on the investigation, curious what she’d discover. As a precaution, he’d disguised himself as a businessman he saw in the nightclub last night. He tried to remain still against the wall; if he moved too much, she’d notice it was just an illusion.  
‘Sir! You there! May I ask what you’re doing here?’ Cherry asked with a shrill voice from the other side of the tape. She was searching the surroundings for clues and put a burnt-up cigarette butt in a little pouch.  
‘I was going to work, and I usually use this shortcut. Did the Viper strike again? For the third time this month?’ Azil responded.  
‘Fifth, actually,’ Mike remarked. Cherry shot him a look that was as deadly as Azil’s poisons.  
‘But people don’t know that yet,’ she hissed, trying to calm herself down by directing her anger at the tiny notebook she was holding.  
_Strange. Do I have a copycat?_  
‘That’s what we think, anyway. Maybe you should take a different route to work today, sir.’  
‘Oh, I’m not in a hurry, and I’m fascinated by the work you do.’ The sky was slowly brightening, and merchants on the marketplace on Azil’s side of the tape started to build their stalls.  
‘I’m usually in first,’ he said. ‘Nobody will know I’m late when there’s nobody to witness it.’  
‘Alright, but please don’t disturb us. We’re trying to solve a murder.’  
‘So I gathered.’  
Cherry didn’t respond and walked back to the wide-eyed corpse.  
‘Something’s not right,’ she muttered. ‘Bite the victim, and poison him? Seems like overkill. Why would a vampire do such a complicated thing?’ Cherry lifted the upper lip of the body. ‘No notable change in the teeth. So the bite occurred close to the time of death. The body didn’t have a chance to transform. Then why would the Viper poison them at all? Unless… unless he can’t kill them with his bite. Unless he needs them to be immobile to be able to drink their blood. Unless he’s a weak vampire.’  
A chipper looking elf in a white coat walked out from a small, equally white tent they’d set up, in case it would start raining. ‘Miss Cottonhopper, the cause of death does seem to be the poison. He died of heart failure, not blood loss. In fact, most of his blood is still there,’ he reported. Azil hadn’t seen him before. _Someone Cherry brought in after she failed to get anything from my last crime scene?_  
Cherry paced back and forth, looking past the disguised Azil to the market square while stroking her prominent chin. ‘Unless… they’re not a vampire at all, but just making their kills look like those of one.’  
A light bulb visibly went off in her head, and a broad smile appeared on her face.  
The constable that stood next to her looked confused.  
‘But she’s a vampire. Everyone knows that. Why else would she bite the victims?’  
‘They. Could be a man,’ Cherry said, correcting him for the third time.  
‘A man that uses a woman’s weapon,’ he retorted.  
The elf turned towards him. ‘I think we both know those do exist, Mike. Or do I need to call you Michelle?’  
Mike straightened the small crossbow strapped to his back of his viridian uniform, but his face turned a complementary shade of crimson. Cherry either didn’t seem to catch the joke or ignored it on purpose.  
‘Anyway, not a vampire. Don’t worry, sir, I think we’ll have this murder solved, and this alley cleared, in no time.’  
_Damn it. That gnome’s too smart for her own good. If I don’t move to a different city soon, she’ll be the end of me._


	3. Chapter 3

# II

Azil barely dodged the pan with hot water, and two drops spilt on his arm. He jumped aside when another small amount splashed on the floor next to him.  
‘Joe! Careful with that pan! Don’t multitask!’ Berty didn’t even look up from her cutting board when she reprimanded her sous-chef.   
‘Sorry, Berty.’ Joe put the pan on the wooden table in the centre of the kitchen. A large ceramic stove took up the entire far wall. It had eight burners, with pots containing delicious-smelling food on half of those. Azil stood with his back to the closed pantry door. Opposite him was a metal door, from which he could feel a cold aura emanating. Beaded curtains hung on the far sides of the kitchen: one passageway led to the dining room, and the other to the courtyard. Berty’s half of the table was neat, with a rack of cutting boards and a sorted heap of vegetables that needed to be cut. Joe’s half of the table was a mess. The pan with water started rolling because he’d set them on some carrots, but he stopped it just in time. He looked no older than seventeen.  
‘Joe, how many times do I have to tell you? Keep your station clean. You made a mess, and you probably forgot where you put the potatoes. An organised kitchen is an efficient kitchen. Please?’  
Joe nodded. He’d heard that rant too often.  
‘Sorry, Berty. I’ll try.’  
She sighed and came over to help him clean his side of the table.  
‘Alright, back to work. Find your potatoes.’  
Berty turned around, and Azil managed to evade her hands by bending backwards, as she reached for the pantry. His tail bumped against the table, and one of the hidden potatoes rolled off and fell on the floor.  
‘Joe!’  
‘I found the potatoes.’  
Azil heard Berty chuckle, but he was too busy getting out of Joe’s way and simultaneously staying invisible. It was a roomy kitchen, but not so roomy that he could comfortably avoid two people who had no idea he was there. When Berty went back into the kitchen, he looked through the window and saw a row of books on the other end of the room, so he’d turned himself invisible and crawled under the bead curtain to get into the kitchen unnoticed. Luckily, many smells and sounds made it easier to stay hidden.  
He stood in the corner of the books now, and it looked like he was safe for now.  
 _If she has a favourite book, it has to be here._  
Two books stood on the left end of the shelf, fenced off by a clay pot that had rosemary growing inside. Quite thin, one in red and one in blue leather, with no titles on their backs. They looked more like sturdy notebooks. All the ones on the other side of the rosemary were sturdier and had titles.  
‘Joe!’ Berty yelled out. ‘The stew almost overcooked! Organisation!’ She muttered a curse and put the pot on the table, reaching for the red notebook. She leafed through it and stopped at a page with neat, blocky handwriting, detailing her own recipe for rabbit stew.   
‘Rabbit, rabbit. Spices.’ She took another taste of the stew. ‘Cardamom is missing.’  
 _Her favourite book is probably not a recipe collection. Let’s look at the books with a title._  
Azil went through them one by one, getting closer to the curtain to the dining room as he tilted his head to read the titles. Lucky stuck his head through the curtain, almost head-butting Azil, and started rattling off another order.  
‘Oh, and Berty, where’s that boy that wanted to see you?’ _Boy? I might be nineteen, but I look at least twenty-two._  
She came over to the door, almost stepping on Azil’s foot. ‘I don’t know. I talked to him, and I came back to work. He stayed in the courtyard, I think.’ She smiled a little, and there was a slight blush on her cheek. Then again, the climate in the eight-stove kitchen was tropical.  
‘Alright, well, he seems like an okay boy and all, but –’  
‘No funny business, I know. Don’t worry, boss. I can handle myself, you know that. And he was charming. And pretty. But no funny business.’ She smiled brightly, and Lucky smiled back.  
‘Joe, you okay, buddy?’ Lucky seemed concerned, but more in a caring way than a bossy one.  
‘Yeah, boss. Just an off day, sorry.’  
‘It’s alright, it happens.’ Lucky nodded sagely and vanished behind the beads. _She didn’t talk about the book… She knows Lucky too well._ Azil chuckled internally and looked at the books again. Eleven paperbacks, in a neat row.   
One cookery book, or a parody of it. _Real Witches eat Quiches_ , by Jim Garrison. The next two were travel guides, one to Zakhara and the other to Ranshahi, two realms to the far east, known for their unusual spices and cuisine. One was a book called _Red Dragonborn_ , by Thomas Harris. Beside that, a trilogy called _The Bright Tower_. The next one was a paperback, printed to mimic a red leather-bound book with golden etchings, called _Ronan the Conqueror_. One book appeared new and not read at all. _Flames of Passion_ , by Jennifer DeCourcey. The final two books were by someone called J. V. Gabriel. They were the most worn-out, as well. _Captain Sanguine_ , and _the Island of Booty_.  
Azil looked at them for a little while, trying to judge Berty’s character. _If her favourite book is really a travel guide, I’m breaking off all contact_.  
Berty and Joe were chatting about a new butcher that opened in the city. Then she explained the difference between coriander seeds and fresh coriander leaves, and why one is good, and the other might not be, but it went over Azil’s head. After several minutes of listening and mulling over the issue, Azil decided this wouldn’t get him anywhere, and slipped back out to the courtyard, dropping his invisibility. Suddenly, he noticed how stuffy and fragrant the kitchen had been. He couldn’t imagine spending more than half an hour there without taking a break.  
The breeze that blew into the room as Azil opened the door caught the attention of the hen do, and he felt a small hand, belonging to someone drunk, pat his butt. When he looked around, the black-haired human girl blushed. He tutted at her, and playfully slapped her thigh with his tail, as she sat at the edge of the booth. Her face turned an even deeper shade of red, and it was approaching Azil’s complexion. An avalanche of giggles followed Azil as he walked on, and there was a ‘You go girl!’ from the halfling.  
‘You get the ladies’ attention, friend. Sorry about that. If any of them get too pushy, I’ll call security.’ Lucky put another cider in front of Azil.  
‘Thank you for your concern, but they’re all intoxicated. I can handle them, but I’ll be sure to let you know if they manage to overpower me.’  
Lucky picked up another glass and started polishing it, ready for another tale. ‘Berty told me you met her outside. You made quite the impression! It’s good to see her blushing like that. She’s overworked, poor girl, but doesn’t take many off days, despite me insisting. Just don’t hurt her, and we'll be okay, young man.’  
‘I intend not to hurt her, but I don’t know what would. Anything I need to look out for? Anything I need to avoid?’  
He stopped smiling for a brief moment. ‘Avoid? I don’t think so. But do look out. She once took a date to the spice market and wrapped him around her little finger so tightly, he restocked the kitchen with most of the herbs we were running out of! So unless you’re either serious or have excess money to spend, don’t let her drag you to the spice market.’  
‘What makes you think I’m not obscenely wealthy?’  
‘Not my business, unless you don’t pay your bar tab. Which you did for tonight, anyway.’ He grinned again.  
‘With your permission, I’d like to take her out for some fresh air tomorrow. If you think it’ll do her good…’  
‘Just no funny business, and we’ll be fine! She’s a good girl, and I’m sure she’ll show you the fun parts of the city. Unless she drags you to the port. She loves it there, and she keeps talking about how she loves marine life. I don’t know. Those jellyfish can sting!’ Lucky detailed a story about a customer who had to call a cleric because a jellyfish sting had caused his arm to wither, die, and fall off like a dried tree branch.  
‘Look, Lucky, you have to tell me what you mean by funny business. Because for all I know, you’ve had bad experiences with stand-up comedians.’  
‘Oh, I did, and I still do. Most of them aren’t as funny as advertised. Why would I want stand-up comedians in my tavern?’ He put down the glass and served another customer before returning to his story. ‘But you know. Funny business. I need my staff to stay safe. And I’d rather not lose my excellent cook. Go to a cleric, son, or an alchemist. Have them give you contraceptives.’  
‘Funny business? You can say “make love,” Lucky, I won’t tell your mother.’  
‘Love doesn’t always come into the equation, friend. If something goes wrong, you’d better make sure you are devoted to her, because I’ll expect you to make an honest woman out of Berty. Or any of my servers, for that matter.’ Azil was puzzled at his phrasing again, unsure what Lucky thought of him. He heard a soft _meow_ , and Baldy jumped on the counter. The cat sniffed Azil’s hand and rubbed against it, almost spilling his cider.  
‘Oi! Berty!’ Lucky yelled, and Berty’s head appeared in the kitchen door. She noticed the kitty on the counter. ‘Sorry, boss!’ She rushed in and grabbed Baldy, cradling it in her arms, before storming out and muttering something about _bad_ kitties and a mountain of treats. Azil’s face clouded over as he admired Lucky’s good instincts regarding bad intentions but quickly fell back into Azil’s confident smile.  
‘Well, I think I’ll be off. I have a puzzle to solve before the end of the night.’ Azil waved his goodbye and walked up the stairs.

Room seven was warm and clean if a bit cramped. The windows looked out over the courtyard. One bed, a wardrobe, nightstand, wash basin, table, two chairs, everything in pine.  
Azil put away his things, hanging his whip around the bedpost, and started revising his spells from his spellbook. It was an intricate, black, leather-bound book with a silver lining, and the spells inside it were written with special indigo ink. There were only eight spells in it, but he knew them by heart. They’d saved his life so many times that he didn’t get tired of going through them every day.  
After about an hour of undisturbed reading – he’d gone through the whole spellbook twice and moved on to the diary of a black elf adventurer named Ilmadia. She’d just been captured by a succubus. Azil still wasn’t sure if this was a first-hand account, but if it was fiction, it was very convincingly written – he heard some commotion in the hallway, and a soft knock on the door.   
Two of the girls from the party were standing on Azil’s doorstep: the blonde elf, and the black haired human.  
‘We kept tying in rock-paper-scissors –’  
‘– so we decided to both come up –’  
‘– and take you up on your offer –’  
‘– if you think you can handle us both –’  
‘– pretty boy!’  
Azil whistled between his teeth and motioned for them to enter.   
‘Come in. Can I offer you anything?’  
‘We brought our own!’ The elf pulled out a beautifully carved crystal bottle full of dark, amber liquid. The human girl extends her hands, holding three goblets matching the bottle.  
The girls dragged the table to the bed, and Azil picked up both chairs, but then noticed the girls were sitting next to each other on the bed, leaving a space between them for him. The human girl had been eyeing the whip hanging from the bedpost and was now flipping through the diary, giggling at what she read.   
The elf coughed and put the bottle in front of her on the table.  
‘Sam? The candle?’  
Sam put the diary away and produced a candle from her pocket, putting it in the middle of the table. The elf put her hands around the flame, as if she was gathering the light in her palms, and gently laid her hands on the crystal bottle. To Azil’s amusement, the liquid started glowing faintly.  
She starts whispering something in Elvish, and Azil only caught pieces. Both because the girl was drunk, and because he hadn’t spoken Elvish in over a year. He gathered that it was some kind of song, mourning the end of summer. As he watched, the light in the bottle grew and separated into several points of light. They took the shape of a constellation, one that he knew marked the beginning of autumn. She closed her eyes, ended the chant, and the liquid turned completely black.  
‘Sunshine,’ she whispered in Elvish, and the drink turned amber again. The elf smiled brilliantly, proud of herself.  
‘That was the Elverquisst ceremony. This is wine from my homeland. We celebrate the beginning of autumn with it, and it’s meant to be shared with friends, during a time of merriment.’ The two girls picked up their glasses and toasted, and Azil did the same.  
The wine tasted like a perfect late summer day, distilled into a perfect glass of wine. It was sweet and fruity, with a gentle hint of acid, like barely ripe apples.  
And then the strength of the liquor hit him. It was masked by the beautiful taste, but elves knew how to drink. The human pulled Azil in for a short kiss.  
‘I’m Sam. And that’s Ennaia.’  
‘Nice to meet you both. I’m Jonathan, new in town. So have you girls been enjoying yourselves? I hear your friend’s getting married!’  
Both of them nod, and Ennaia speaks. ‘Misty. She’s my dad’s sister’s daughter.’ She looked stern, and Azil noticed how she was a little more serious and probably older (though he could never tell with elves) than her friends.  
Azil felt fingers creeping up his left thigh but kept listening to Ennaia. He had already hung up his blue and gold robes in the wardrobe and was wearing airy, linen underclothes.  
‘And you girls aren’t married yet? No boyfriends?’  
Sam shrugged and leant over Azil. ‘Nope, no boyfriend.’  
Ennaia pushed her leg between Azil’s, and whispered, ‘Not tonight.’  
Sam lightly touched one of his horns, testing for a response. Her other hand, which was travelling up his leg, now slid onto Ennaia’s. Ennaia saw her friend poke the horn, and giggled.  
‘Silly, that’s like poking his hair. You have to grab his tail instead.’  
Azil looked at Sam. ‘I gather you’ve never been with a tiefling before, but Ennaia has?’  
She blushed for a second. ‘Yeah. She’s a little older than I am.’  
‘I’ll warn you in advance, I’m hot.’  
Sam looked confused. ‘Duh. Why do you think I’m here?’  
Ennaia laughed at her confusion and started to explain. ‘No, he means actually hot. Don’t you feel how he’s warm like he’s been in the sun the whole day?’  
‘I guess.’  
‘Try licking him,’ Ennaia said.  
Azil looked at Sam with an entertained look, waiting for her to make a move. She tentatively tasted his cheek. Ennaia giggled while Sam’s expression went from a puzzled happy to a confused one. ‘That’s hot. Spicy hot.’  
‘That’s what I told you,’ Azil said.  
Ennaia licked Azil behind his ear. ‘You remember I made you ask Joe for some oil?’  
‘Yeah…’ Sam blushed.  
‘Well, you’re going to need it. It doesn’t wash away with water,’ Ennaia explained.  
‘What doesn’t?’   
Azil and Ennaia exchanged glances, leaving Sam’s question unanswered. Ennaia crept up, and while she wasn’t busty, her boobs pressed against Azil like a soft, warm cushion. Sam gently pulled on her chin, and they kissed slowly and deeply. A tiny string of saliva stretched in front of Azil’s face when they parted. Sam cheekily looked his way. Azil slid his left hand down her back and pinched her butt, and she gave a surprised moan.   
Ennaia leant in towards Azil and kissed him, pressing her lips onto his firmly. She was enjoying the exploration and hummed a little when she ran her tongue through his mouth. Sam was feeling either jealous or eager, because she started unbuttoning Azil’s shirt, planting little kisses on his chest and belly. When she struggled with the trousers, Ennaia took over, and Sam leant in for a kiss as well. Azil felt the black-haired girl was much more enthusiastic. She kissed him rather hard, and he felt her teeth grazing his lower lip.   
When Sam broke the kiss, they both got up off the bed and took a moment to look at Azil, lying naked on the bed. They giggled again and started untying each other’s dresses. Ennaia’s dress floated to the floor in seconds. Elves only had hair on their head, but the hair that they did have was usually long, smooth, and beautiful in colour. Sam’s corset dropped to the floor, and her shimmery purple dress slid a bit. One of the shoulder straps fell off, leaving her right breast exposed. Ennaia took a moment tease Sam’s nipple, and she gave a yelp and pinched Ennaia back, seemingly forgetting what they were doing. Then Sam’s dress fell to the floor as well. Sam was a little taller, a little bustier, and a little chubbier than Ennaia. Her hair was black and a little curly, whereas the elf’s hair was straight. They turned their attention to Azil again. Sam hesitated and whispered something in Ennaia’s ear.   
They both nodded, and Ennaia crawled onto the bed, next to Azil. She took his tail in her hands and started stroking it, studying it in close detail. The tail ended in a point but quickly increased in thickness for seven or eight inches, at which point it was as thick as a balled fist, or perhaps a muscular underarm. It also had five protrusions, facing away from the tip, so that when inserted, they acted like hooks. From the last point on, the tail spanned another six feet. Ennaia started nibbling Azil’s chest and stomach but quickly moved the tail down between her legs with her hands, not shy in showing what she wants.   
Sam had seemingly also decided on a course of action because Azil felt her mouth closing around his cock. She started sucking on it, wiggling her tongue against the underside. It felt a bit sloppy but good. Azil was getting harder in her mouth, growing to his full length. Sam looked a bit surprised; she liked what she was tasting.  
Ennaia reached to play with Sam’s hair and wiggled her hips to show that she wanted him to be a little more forceful with his tail. Azil rubbed the tip of his tail over her pussy lips a few times, consistently getting rougher. Ennaia groaned out of lust and frustration, and Azil finally pushed his tail inside her pussy. Her fists clenched the bed sheets, crumpling them. He was so concentrated on Ennaia, he’d hardly noticed Sam had stopped sucking him off. Instead, she crawled up his legs, and the warm wetness of her pussy enveloped his cock as she began to ride him.   
Sam’s breasts bounced as she moved on top of him. She bent back, supporting herself against his thighs. She tossed her head back, laughing and groaning, starting to move her hips in circles. Ennaia grabbed his tail and pushed the first two ridges inside herself, moaning whenever one slipped in and was simultaneously fingering herself and pushing the third one inside. As soon as Azil felt the third hook slip inside, Ennaia’s body tensed and began to tremble as she came. Her walls clenched around his tail, making it difficult for him to move inside her. She let out a long, happy sigh, and momentarily stopped fingering herself to support herself on Azil’s chest with her hand. Then she pinned her lips to his neck in a rough kiss and jerked her hips, showing that he wasn’t to stop what he was doing with her. Azil moaned in response to the kiss, enjoying the attention his skin was getting.  
Azil lifted his knees slightly, and Sam sped up her bouncing, the strokes becoming shallower and her moans becoming louder and more frequent. Azil got the impression the angle was doing something wonderful for her. He started swirling his tail inside Ennaia, mirroring the way his cock moved in Sam as she was still rolling her hips on top of him. They both enjoyed it, and Ennaia stopped sucking his neck. She seemed happy fingering herself, but Azil reached out towards Sam and started rubbing her clit. She stopped moaning and was sighing instead.  
It didn’t take long for Sam, with the added stimulation, to reach orgasm. She let out a long, loud moan, and her body stiffened. Her pussy clenched around his cock, sending him over the edge, too. The release urged him to push his hips up, deeper into Sam. While Azil was coming inside Sam, Ennaia pushed herself down onto his tail, and he heard her long, happy sigh in his ear again.   
Sam purred and fell onto his chest. He slipped out of her as she lifted her ass up. She kissed him lightly, grinning and stroking his dark hair.   
‘Thanks, darling,’ she whispered as she crawled off him. She sat on the bed, and dragged her dress towards her with her foot, while simultaneously taking a sip of her wine.  
‘Hmm, I love the tail.’ Ennaia sat up and grabbed her dress from the floor. Azil noticed how crazy the construction was, with all the strings she pushed and pulled to make the gown sit right on her body. She looked at Azil, still sprawled on the bed, with a smile. They were back to their partying mood, as they quickly downed their glasses of wine, and walked out the door while Sam was still lacing up her corset.  
The door shut behind them, and he heard Sam’s voice, asking Ennaia, ‘Can you explain the tail to me?’


	4. Chapter 4

# III

‘Can we make this quick? I have to be back by ten. I need to win a bet.’ Azil kicked a rock, pretending to be bored.  
‘Alright, pay attention. The plan’s real simple-like. You don’t need to know all about the rest of it, just the part relevant to you. That way, you don’t get distracted with all the details, and we protect the integrity of the operation.’  
‘I think you mean confidentiality.’  
‘Whatever floats your boat.’  
‘It’s not whatever. You hired me to do a job, and I’m not going to do it if you don’t know what you’re talking about. Where’s your boss?’  
‘Don’t have one. I work all by my lonesome.’  
‘Right. I find that hard to believe. Why don’t you scurry back to your employer and tell them that I’m not doing anything unless I meet face to face?’  
‘Boss’s say-so. Boss says I can’t use force to convince you, but you better watch your mouth. I see a couple loose teeth.’  
‘So you do have a boss.’  
‘Look, sissy, you do realise you’re outmanned, right? You oughta be on your knees doing whatever the boss tells you if you want to keep that smile pretty.’  
‘How did you know I’m a _sissy_?’ Azil’s voice oozed sarcasm.  
‘You ain’t got no muscle on you. You stink of flowers.’  
‘What, basic hygiene tipped you off?’  
‘Boss’s say-so. Said he needs someone to fuck the gem store clerk.’  
‘And you think I can do it?’  
‘Boss’s say-so.’  
‘But what do you believe?’  
‘I think it ain’t none of my damn business.’  
‘If I can seduce the jewellery shop clerk, what makes you think I can’t tempt you?’  
‘’Cause I ain’t a fucking twink.’  
‘Your son sure is.’  
That seemed to have hit a soft spot with the mercenary. In a fluid motion, he drew his sword and made a slash towards Azil’s knee, who jumped over it and placed his own dagger in the shoulder of his opponent, cutting the biggest tendon to his sword-arm. The mercenary cried out in pain, and stared in horror at his arm, which wouldn’t move, no matter how hard he tried to swing it.  
Azil had thought of fighting as something big and flashy until he actually started doing it. Usually, the fights were over in a couple of seconds. Someone was either dead or maimed, or both parties were too exhausted to go on.  
A cold voice emanated from the darkness further down the narrow street.  
‘That’s a shame. You cost me my best man.’  
Azil stared at the approaching figure. Hooded and slender, like himself. Soft-spoken but still intimidating. Long, silver hair flowed out from the hood and over the man’s shoulders.  
‘I think you cost yourself your best man.’  
‘This is a major setback. I told Tony not to do anything dumb and just say what I’d said to him, but it seems it was a little too confusing.’  
‘I can hear ya, boss.’  
The person with the icy voice ignored Tony and continued addressing Azil.  
‘Do me a favour and get rid of him.’  
Azil looked at the figure in surprise. When he looked at Tony, he saw that the wounded man had the same expression on his face.  
‘Boss? You don’t mean that, do you?’  
Silence. Azil gripped his dagger.  
‘Boss?’ Tony grabbed his sword with his left hand, slowly raising it towards Azil.  
‘He’s worthless to me now that his arm is no longer functioning. I’d like you to get rid of him.’  
‘You’ll owe me a favour,’ Azil responded.  
‘Boss? What about my kid? What about little Anton?’  
‘Just do it. I’ll pay you extra for the job. I can’t afford a loose end.’  
Azil grabbed the whip that was hanging from his belt. Tony followed Azil’s movements. His eyes clouded over with fear, and he raised his sword a little higher. His arm was shaking. _Definitely not left-handed._  
With a smooth motion, Azil swung the whip and yanked the sword out of Tony’s hand.  
‘Please! Little Anton got so much to live for, and his mother left him when he was three. He ain’t got nowhere to live.’  
Azil considered Tony’s words for a moment but felt the adrenaline coursing through his head. Since he fled Stillport, he hadn’t killed anyone. The man’s soft throat beckoned. _Besides, what’s he going to do? His right arm is fucked up, and fixing it is expensive. Apparently, letting me kill him is cheaper._  
‘Sorry, tough guy. Boss’s say-so.’  
With a swift motion, Azil drove his dagger upwards into the man’s neck. Azil took a moment to let the body slip out of his arms and enjoy the rush. The hooded figure hadn’t moved an inch since it stepped into the light.  
‘Your grandma told me you might bite.’  
‘She was right.’  
‘Is that where you got your Viper nickname from?’  
‘You’re sharp. Most people figure out they hired the Viper after the job is done and they see the bite marks.’  
‘I have to be. I’m not strong, nor can I cast spells. I’m at a disadvantage. Word getting around is what I rely on.’  
‘Really? What words are getting around?’  
‘That you made a bit of a mess in Stillport. Cherry Cottonhopper is coming to town.’  
 _Damn._  
‘Alright, mister boss. You’ve made good on your favour. To be honest, I thought you’d take it worse. I did maim your best bodyguard, after all.’  
‘He was expendable. Inexpensive. I guess I got what I paid for. You don’t happen to be interested in the position?’  
‘I don’t like to settle. What with the impending, three-feet-tall doom-detective that wears her hair in a bun, and all that.’  
‘Understandable.’  
‘But I’m still interested in that job you had for me.’  
‘I’m afraid the operation rested on Tony’s shoulders.’  
‘No offence, but –’  
‘I know, not the smartest of ideas. I make do.’  
‘What do I call you?’  
‘Osiris. Pleased.’ The figure extended a pale hand.  
‘Leander. The pleasure is mine.’ Azil walked towards Osiris and shook his hand. They walked off towards the harbour.  
‘A quick thinker. How refreshing,’ Osiris remarked.  
‘I assumed you weren’t the literal god of the underworld.’  
‘Just trying to be, in my spare time. I’m starting small. Just Highfront for now. And I infer you’re not actually swimming across any bodies of water.’  
‘No, but I am drowning because I can’t see the light.’  
‘Clever, if a bit melodramatic. Maybe I can shed some.’  
‘The underworld of Highfront? What are the stakes?’  
‘Well, I’m going up against the Faelynns’ trade company.’  
‘I heard it’s lucrative if you play your cards right.’  
‘Quite. As long as the details remain mine alone.’  
‘Of course.’  
They made their way from the harbour to the Roaring Lion itself.  
‘I’ll need to think about the job some more. I lost the footing that I had. Can I invite you to the apple pie bake-off tomorrow? It’s the first event in the Holiday, and it’s going to be crowded so we can talk business undisturbed.’  
‘That’s going to be difficult. I’ll have a date.’  
‘Hmm. I’m assuming he’s not a partner in crime?’  
‘She’s not, no.’  
‘Such a shame. Well, until next time?’  
‘Do I want there to be a next time?’  
‘I think we got off on the right foot, Leander.’  
‘So do I, Osiris.’  
After Azil had waved his goodbye and Osiris disappeared into the shadows, the tiefling entered the tavern’s courtyard through the gate on the side of the yard. Joe passed him on his way out. He looked dejected. Berty was standing in the doorway of the kitchen, enjoying the chilly night air and waving her help a good evening.  
‘Robertha.’  
She turned to Azil and smiled, crossing her hands over her chest.  
‘Well? Did you figure it out?’  
‘Almost. I need one more piece of information. Could you please open your mouth?’  
She frowned and looked at him curiously. ‘What an odd thing to ask. How is that going to help you?’  
‘Trust me, it’s essential, or I wouldn’t ask.’  
She wasn’t entirely convinced. ‘Should I close my eyes too? Is it a surprise kiss situation?’  
‘Would you like a surprise kiss?’  
She grinned. ‘I’m not sure yet.’  
She gave in to the request, however, and opened her mouth, keeping her eyes open.  
‘Interesting. Alright. I know what your favourite book is.’  
‘Let’s hear it, then.’  
‘So, I can tell by the food that you have a taste for the exotic. The weekly menu contains more fish than usual, and you love spices, so I’m assuming you’re into boats and trade. Now, you’re a cook, so you have an affinity for blades. The sharper, the better. I also know that you’re really adventurous. Otherwise, you never would have said yes to my proposal. Pirates? I think pirates.’  
Berty chuckled but quickly fell back in a straight face.  
‘Now, there have been many influential writers about pirates, so which is your favourite? For that, I have to know your age, so let's see… You have a burn on your palm which is quite old and has almost completely healed, your skin is beautifully soft yet still sun-touched, and the state of your elbows, lips, and teeth tell me… you’re about forty-two or forty-three years old.’  
‘Forty -two, nicely done.’  
‘Which makes the most famous pirate fiction of your childhood… J.V. Gabriel. He only had two really major hits, Captain Sanguine, and the Island of Booty. Which leads me to my final conclusion. The fact that you’ve checked mine out twice since we met, suggests you’re a Booty kind of gal,’ Azil reeled off. He crossed his fingers behind his back.  
She laughed loudly. ‘Well done, Jonathan. But I think you only had a fifty percent chance of getting it right and decided to go for the joke answer.’  
‘So how about that surprise kiss?’  
‘It’s not a surprise when you’re announcing it,’ she chuckled.  
‘I was about to say the same thing. What a shame. Just close your eyes, and I’ll be gone.’  
‘And so it is. Sightseeing tomorrow, then? I’ll be free around two.’ Her eyes fluttered shut.  
Azil sneaked up on her and planted a kiss on her mouth. She wrapped her arms around his neck in response and pulled him closer. She tasted like the spices she used, piquant and sweet and earthy, with a hint of cooking wine. Her eagerness showed, but it wasn’t pushy. After a few moments, Azil broke the kiss and spoke.  
‘Your mind must be racing. How did he know?’  
‘I think _he_ spent a lot of time at the bar tonight. _He_ must have heard Lucky mention some of these things and put it together. I know how Lucky is, but that’s alright. I admire the dedication.’  
‘You’ll have to chain Lucky up if you want to make this a fair fight.’  
‘I never wanted it to be fair,’ she smiled, but a faint blush appeared on her cheeks. She bit her lower lip and averted her gaze. ‘See you tomorrow at two, Jon.’


End file.
